When Life Hands You a Patch of No’s, It Might Be Time to Dig for Seeds

My inbox is a pumpkin patch of rejection letters—big, bright, and way too plentiful. There’s the usual “we’ve chosen to move forward with other candidates,” the vaguely painful “we were impressed but decided to go in another direction,” and, of course, this soul-crushing one that hit me in the gut that came right out and said, “there were other candidates who were much better than you…”

While I want to wallow in my own pity party for a solid minute, I can’t help but think of all the others—especially the breadwinners out there, the ones who are out there every day looking for work, for stability, for a way to put food on the table. This is harder for them and I wonder if they wonder if there is an end in sight? Before the holidays? As if September, companies have laid off 536,421workers – and more to come in Q4.

Oddly, I’ve been thinking lately about the obscure children’s book I used to read to the boys, Too Many Pumpkins. We learn about Rebecca Estelle, who has a lifetime’s worth of reasons to hate pumpkins, but one autumn, a single stray seed takes root in her yard and erupts and her backyard explodes into a sea of pumpkins. They spill over into every corner of her backyard, bright and insistent. She doesn’t want them. But they’re there.

But Rebecca gets creative. She doesn’t just sit there and let the pumpkins take over; she (spoiler alert) starts baking pies, making casseroles, handing out pumpkin treats to everyone in town. She takes what she didn’t want and turns it into something good. until her “too much” becomes “sweet” and her empty home turns into Pumpkinpalooza: The Unwanted Harvest Edition.

A few days ago, I opened my inbox to yet another one of those wisdom emails that seems to show up just when you’re about to hit “delete all.” And, like some divine dare, it said:
“…when troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing.” James 1:2-4.

Alright, James, you might actually be on to something.
Is that a promise? Needing nothing?

James isn’t just giving us some pat on the head, telling us to “look on the bright side.” No, he’s inviting us to rest. To stop running from every hard thing like it’s on fire and actually sit with it. There’s something almost magical about facing each problem, knowing there might be a diamond hidden somewhere in the mess.
Instead of treating each trial like some prickly cactus you avoid at all costs, (yes, you the weary breadwinner) what if you saw them as gifts? Little launch pads, wrapped in grit and a bit of sting, but still a kind of gift. Sitting with it. Letting it teach you something real, something Instead of dodging every ounce of discomfort, maybe you’d find a way to actually grow from it.

Maybe all these sharp edges, these daily disappointments, don’t have to be barbed wire. They can be a kind of soft armor, something that makes you better, stronger, more whole. And that kind of endurance? It’s the real luxury.

Pretending everything is great is exhausting. All that endless “look on the bright side” nonsense—it’s like standing in the middle of a storm pretending it’s just a light drizzle. And where does it get you? Nowhere. It doesn’t move you forward; it just keeps you in some weird, limbo-land of forced positivity, trying to ignore that there’s a whole lot of crap you probably need to deal with.

So here I am with my inbox stuffed full of rejection emails, my own private patch of “too many pumpkins.” Every “no” is this messy little seed, a bit bitter and annoying as hell, but maybe, just maybe, each one holds potential. Maybe these aren’t failures. Maybe these are the seeds I’m supposed to crack open, dig into the sticky, messy flesh, and figure out what they’re here to teach me. Because glossing over the hard stuff just means it’s going to sit there, getting heavier and harder to ignore.

And then—one random email pops into my inbox. An invitation from , asking me to partner on their Winter/Holiday collection. Yes. A small, unexpected “yes” in the middle of my personal pumpkin patch of “no.” They want me to style my space with their curated faux winter florals, to bring a little holiday warmth to my audience. In the middle of all that rejection, here was something different. Here was a chance to create something beautiful in my own home. Scanning their page on Amazon — everything looks real — so you can buy now — enjoy it for Thanksgiving — and everything will still look brand new at Christmas!

And while my living room isn’t exactly brimming with Afloral pieces just yet, I’m already feeling that little spark. There’s a luxury in preparing our spaces for the season ahead, whether it’s sweeping up the stray leaves that inevitably end up inside or weatherproofing the windows to keep out the chill. It’s these small acts of care—these little rituals—that help us fortify our homes, give us a sense of control, and maybe a little peace as the days get colder.

So here’s the thing: whatever mess, trouble, or disappointment you’re in right now? It’s not hopeless. It’s a gift, wrapped up in annoyance and maybe a bit of pain, but still a gift. Don’t waste it. Look at it, dig into it, pull out the seeds, and plant something new. Because maybe, just maybe, that’s where the magic is hiding.

Pretending everyting is great is exhausting. And really doesn’t move you forward.

Maybe these rejection emails, my personal crop of “too many pumpkins,” aren’t failures. Maybe they’re seeds, messy and a little bitter, but full of potential. Maybe I’m meant to take a look at each “no,” really look at it, and figure out what it’s teaching me. Instead of glossing over the hard stuff, maybe it’s time to crack these pumpkins open, dig into the sticky, messy flesh, and pull out the seeds. Plant something new.
That the only way to find the diamond is to stop pretending it doesn’t hurt and dig into the mess right here, right now.

Then, just as I’m staring down a sea of “no’s,” in comes one unexpected email—a message from Afloral inviting me to partner on their Winter/Holiday collection. Yes. They want me to style my space with their curated faux winter florals and show off the cozy magic of their pieces, bringing a little holiday spirit to my audience. In the middle of all the “no’s,” here was something different. A chance to create something beautiful right here at home, amid all the rejection.

My living room is not filled up with florals from Afloral – just yet. I finding the luxury in the gift we all have in preparing our homes – or apartments — to withstand the winter ahead. We sweep up the stray leaves that fly in, think about the colder months ahead and if maybe we should weatherproof the windows – doing something to fortify our spaces. As a way to give us a sense of control and peace as the days grow colder.

Afloral could be like that friend who shows up with a plan when you’re buried under pumpkins and rejection letters and just need something to feel put together. Suddenly, I’m knee-deep in curated winter florals, planning a corner that actually feels like a diamond, right here in my own chaos.
So if you, too, are stuck in a pumpkin patch of “disappointments,” or overwhelmed, because you promised to host Thanksgiving this year — head over to Afloral’s page and see how you can create a little cozy magic. It’s worth it, I promise.

 

“Your diamonds are not in far distant mountains or in yonder seas; they are in your own backyard, if you but dig for them.” Russell Conwell, Acres of Diamonds, 1913.

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